


The Nightfalls' Waltz

by GenuineSoftBoy



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Might eventually become explicit because I'm a fucking gremlin, set during Season of the Arrival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24704077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenuineSoftBoy/pseuds/GenuineSoftBoy
Summary: A Drifter and a Reckoner find love in the dawn of the darkest days.
Relationships: The Drifter (Destiny)/Original Character(s), The Drifter/Guardian (Destiny), The Drifter/Male Guardian (Destiny)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike The Domino Effect which takes place a few months post Foresaken, around the Season of the Drifter, this all takes place in 'current times' aka Season of Arrivals. Mostly just a lot of fluff that follows a nebulous timeline since the Pyramid ships arrival. Consider this my desperate attempt to show these two aren't just horrible horny idiots.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“You suck at this.”

Soxkt wishes he could blame the Drifter’s words skyrocketing his blood pressure on his missed shot but he couldn’t afford such a luxurious excuse. He ducked behind the cracked wall as bullets pelted the rock, scattering chunks of earth as they impacted the ground.

“I really don’t need this right now.” He gasped roughly into his comm, furiously refilling the chamber of his rifle.

“No, what you don’t need is to die without a single son put in the dirt. Thought you wanted to be a Reckoner, kid. Ten seconds.”

Soxkt took a deep breath and held it as he looked over his cover, eye to his scope, his body tight like a stripped screw. He saw the yellow flash of the Guardian that had turned this invasion into a one-on-one sniping battle. His gun kicked back into his shoulder as he fired. But his hand trembled. And the enemy Sentry’s hand did not.

“Not this time. C’mon, let’s go.” Drifter sighed and within a moment, Soxkt felt his body appearing back on his own side once again. His vision cleared from the red eyestain of the invasion. His teammates were too busy mowing down the Hive that flooded the beach shores to see the furious foot stomping he did before rushing out to help them before the next portal opened again.

He should’ve just dropped it. It would have been better if he did. But he was restless now waiting for the next chance to prove himself and he didn’t have the gear to shred through these Knights like he typically could. So he paced around the bank, keeping a finger on his rifle. Besides, he knew the Gambit handler was always tuned into him.

“Drifter. In all my time playing Gambit-”

Drifter’s barking laugh cut in early. “Ha! Honey, it’s been what? A year and some change? You were late to this party.”

“Not that late.”

The sound of a coin being flicked into the air filled his comm. “I got some actual veterans running around this system. Been playing since before I opened up shop in your Tower. You want vet status, should’ve come found me sooner.”

“I was too busy being an upstanding Guardian before.”

“Heh, sure. Sorry, go on. You were complainin’. I’ll get comfortable.”

Soxkt huffed. “You know, you were so excited for me to invade.”

“Was I?”

“YES.” Soxkt bore the bruises of that excitement still. He rolled his shoulders and felt the ache in his muscles.

“Alright, alright. Suppose I won’t argue with you on that. You gonna be mad about that now too? Mad you can’t shoot, mad you make me happy... there ain’t no pleasing ya.”

Soxkt felt the smile that was pulling into place tighten back into a sharp line. “I can shoot.” He said and then jumped about a foot in the air as the Collector slid across the planks beside him, slamming 20 motes into the Bank with an open palm. He watched as the portal sprung back to life once again before his eyes, the Darkness calling him back.

“Prove it, hotshot. Try and hit something for your sorry teammates.”

There was silence for most of his second invasion. Even Drifter’s Ghost wasn’t giving him the typical pre recorded callouts of his time ticking down. It was only during the last few seconds of his invasion that the Drifter piped up.

“You’ve been chatty lately. Lot less of those hands talkin'.” He said it so casually as though Soxkt couldn’t feel his eyes watching him straight through the atmosphere, waiting for the exact wrong moment to drop this bomb.

Soxkt puffed a breath out, his bangs flipping up inside his helmet. “Fuck. Is now really the time?”

“What else are you busy with?”

The response came in the form of a sniper shot barely skimming the side of his helmet. It was followed by a hail of Arc energy and that was the end of that. 

Again, he was pulled back over. Soxkt could feel the ire of his teammates and was thankful he was nigh unrecognizable in this Invader armor or the shame might pull him back to orbit to sulk. Again with the pacing around the bank as he took potshots at Wizards. Again, he opened a door to a conversation he had no real reason to.

“Why are you bringing this up now? Don’t you have a game to commentate on?”

“Don’t worry about how I do my job. Besides, how much longer did you need me to pretend I didn’t notice this ‘slowly opening up’ act you’re pulling?”

“I didn’t need you to-!” Soxkt stopped himself. “It-it wasn’t deliberate. The talking, I mean.” He lied.

“Yeah. How dense do you take me for? I know you. Crack open that head of yours and I’m sure I’d find out you’ve been counting each one of your own words for the past six months. You ain’t good at pretending to be doing things naturally. Figured if you were going through all this effort of trying, though, I’d play along. Wait for you to announce your reveal.”

Soxkt watched his Reaper sprint away from a pack of screeching Thralls and sighed, dropping off the bank’s ledge and rushing into the field. “Reveal of what?”

“I don’t know. That you can talk now because...I make you happy or something equally insane of you to say.”

Soxkt gave a single “ha” and he heard Drifter chuckling away to himself. “Do you want me to say something like that?”

The laugh cut short. Silence. He didn’t think anything of it at first. The quiet dragged on until Drifter broke in halfway through Soxkt punching a hole through a Hive knight. 

“You could give it a shot, if you wanted. Saying something like that.”

Soxkt’s brow crinkled. He wrenched his fist free and looked up at the sky, where the Derelict was hanging so high. “Give it a shot…? This isn’t sex, Drifter.”

“I’m aware! It’d be a lot easier if it was. For both of us. Fine. You don’t gotta say nothing. Forget it.”

Soxkt’s face was going as red as his armor as a shameful surge punched him in the stomach. “I don’t know why you’re being like this.” He grumbled, pretending not to understand.

“This ain’t the argument I’m willing to have, Starlight. Can it. I’m just pointing out you don’t exactly like laying your cards out on the table, just like me. You’d be good at poker if you didn’t have that delicious face.” He could hear Drifter’s fingers drumming on some console. “But...you’re the one who came to me blustering about changin’ and workin’ towards something better and being ‘honest’. Figured you'd want a reminder. I’ll keep my fat mouth shut though.”

Soxkt hated when he was right. Just like everyone else did. He stood uselessly among the bodies of Hive, watching his team do their jobs as the portal sprung to life. The last chance before the Primeval.

“Go on, prove yourself.”

Soxkt slowly chambered a shot into his sniper. As he entered through the invasion portal, he breathed in hard. The smell of ozone and the cold rush filled his veins. He ignored the urge to retch as his stomach flipped from the unfamiliar feeling and he bolted. It was almost familiar as he quickly climbed the ruined rock to a spot he typically found himself at when playing Sentry. It was nearly the same role, if he tricked himself into thinking that way. Just...no team to protect. Only himself. He braced the rifle against the crumbled wall and began to talk.

“You make me happy. And I’m doing all of this to make you proud.” One headshot. The motes dashed to dust on the ground. They would start looking for him now. “The talking more, the invading, the...everything. Just pick something and it’ll probably be the same answer.” The Reaper and Invader were on patrol and far too close together. Soxkt’s finger twitched. Two down. Three down. The Sentry was frenzied now at the bank. The sniper rifle Soxkt had been staring down the barrel of all match was gone, replaced with a rocket launcher on their shoulder. He began the descent from his perch, carefully picking his way through the battlefield. 

A calm voice cut through.“Ten seconds and I pull ya back.” 

Soxkt didn’t have a clue if it was a recording or the man itself. He slid under cover as he watched a rocket land squarely where he was perching about five seconds ago. His voice was ragged but he pushed through.

“I hate telling you this. I hate saying it. Because this isn’t anything new. I’ve felt this way for so long. And you were just too stupid to SEE IT!” The rocket burst into shrapnel and rained fire against the terrain, far too close. With a frustrated yell, Soxkt burst from his cover and swung with a fist full of void, the purple haze leaking through the cracks in his fingers as he impacted directly into the chest of the charging Sentry with a nova bomb that ruptured his ears.

He near fell on his face as the scenery shuddered and he found himself breathing back on his own side of the map. His comm was bursting to life. “WOO! THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT, STARLIGHT! PUT THOSE GUARDIANS IN THE DIRT FOR ME!” The feed was distorted from the volume and Soxkt slapped a hand to his helmet in pain as he winced at the shouting. But he was grinning. His heart was beating out a tango in his chest. A shuddering laugh escaped his mouth. His comm flared back up again, a call for a Primeval and with that, Soxkt floated his way to where the ground gave way to Taken blight.

They lost. Handedly, too. As his Collector bluntly told him, one good round of invasion doesn’t make up for much. Soxkt took his team’s frustration in stride best he could. He was grateful for his own silence and the helmet. He never considered a day would come his reputation outside of being a hero would matter to him but right now, the weight of his failure hung heavy. He patiently waited in the back of his team, watching them disperse as Drifter handed off treat after treat. Soxkt was too distracted by his own shame to notice he was being scrutinized.

“Hey.” Soxkt froze stiff as Drifter’s hand reached out, pressing the pressure release of his helmet, pulling it off and resting it on his hip. Soxkt didn’t know where to look as Drifter took in his bruised face, still coming to a slow heal with his Ghost’s efforts. “I see why Shaxx complains you don’t enter the Crucible much. You lose all your nerve when you got a Guardian caught in that scope.” Drifter’s smile wavered at Soxkt’s shameful glance. 

He cleared his throat. “Well. Confession time, hero.” Drifter sighed heavily. “Look. I see more than you kids think I do. More than the Vanguard or the Shadows think I do. Might be a little stuck in the past sometimes but I’ve always been flexible and observant. Just ‘cause I see it, though, don’t mean I know what the hell to do with it. I got experience but...that don’t always mean I got smarts.” He rolled the helmet against his hip, breaking the eye contact with an uncomfortable cough. “So...I’m, uh, damn aware of what you put in for me. All your work. Don’t think it goes unnoticed just cause I pay you and send you on your way. Be a shame if you got bent out of shape over something like that.” 

Soxkt crossed his arms tightly, hiding his hands away. “If you know so well...then why did you want me to say it, asshole?” It was a lot more intimidating to speak out loud to him in person than over comms but he had to try.

“Maybe I just like the way you talk now. Maybe I wanted to see if it made you good at killin’. Hell knows you needed the help. I had to try something.” Drifter smirked. “Maybe out of all my scams and games...I can start to put ours to bed. It’s a lot easier to do when you’re leading the charge on it.” Drifter turned the helmet in his hands and tossed it back. Soxkt caught it one handed. “Say it. Come on. If we’re being honest today, might as well go whole hog.”

Soxkt knew what he meant immediately. He gripped the hard plastic of the helmet so tight in his hands it creaked. But he complied eventually, after a moment’s self encouragement. “I...I love you.” He pushed himself to sound as clear as he could. It was still so new to say, it was like a brand new sparrow; the urge to handle the words gently for fear they would tarnish too soon and lose their gleam.

Drifter smiled comfortably, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I love you too.”

The two stared at each other. Their surroundings didn’t collapse in on themselves. The universe hadn’t shattered to pieces. And by all accounts, they were both still kicking. Soxkt opened his mouth but instead of any intelligible words, all that came out was a single sound pulled directly from his chest.

“...Oh.”

He spent the rest of the afternoon with Drifter at the Gambit console, watching the other Guardians run the game like a well oiled machine. He knew he should be out there with them but nothing could persuade him to leave his spot. Drifter barely looked at him as the hours went on. Soxkt didn’t talk again. And though the Drifter’s focus was precise as he dictated instruction and command throughout the rounds, as the sun set lower and lower over the system, Soxkt barely could pay attention to anything beyond the hand he held onto.

And Drifter was just very good at pretending not to notice.


	2. Viennese Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I spread like strawberries  
> I climb like peas and beans  
> I've been sucking in so long  
> That I'm bursting at the seams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food is a love language and you (I) will cry over it.

They’re squirreled away in the back of the Annex, stealing a late night to eat together, sitting on crates like their first days of partnership. A red headed Guardian with tired yellow eyes and a rugged Lightbearer with dark eyes that cut through the shadows like ice. Gambit’s been closed for a few hours now, as has most of the Tower's many stalls. But work never rests for the man who knows too much of what's to come and Soxkt mutters around a bite of noodles that “Being a hero doesn’t sleep.” It’s a joke, kind of. Not really. 

Whatever it may be, fates have twisted up the two and dropped them in the same pocket of time together. Soxkt didn't even mean to stumble his way into the Annex after a grueling clear of a Lost Sector, hands stained with Mar's red sands but when he found the Drifter halfway under the base of a bank, it was clear what was to follow. So now there’s warm food to be ordered and eaten and caveats of comfort to lose themselves in for a few minutes. A lot had changed between them recently over the past few months but some things stayed the same.

It’s already surprisingly comfortable to be doing this, damn near domestic. Drifter chews on the fat of the feeling as he eats his way through his ramen, listening to Soxkt mutter something about large Taken eyeballs popping up in lost sectors and empty rooms. This soft warmth between them used to set Drifter on edge for days. Now, he’s learning to roll with the punches of feeling okay. It’s a lot more sinister than honest doom but he’s an expert at adapting.

Soxkt trails off in his story and blinks at something in Drifter’s bowl with wide eyes, pointing at it curiously with his chopsticks. Drifter follows where they jab.

“What? Never tried this?”

Soxkt shakes his head. “No, I... I always get the same thing. I just order whatever you ask for.”

“Really? Thought you only ate that crap cause you know how much I hate smelling it.”

Soxkt looks prepared to sling something back at him in revenge but Drifter is already leaning forward, the stuffed wonton that had been floating in the broth between his chopsticks. His smile holds no meanness to it.

“Open wide, Starlight.”

Soxkt curiously creeps in close, mouth opening and shutting as Drifter pops the food between his teeth. He seems pleased as he watches Soxkt chew around the meat and dough. There was something novel about watching the god slayer being nervous about a bite of food.

Drifter leans back on his crate, smirking. “Gotta try new things, Starlight! Keeps you young. Y’know, I-”

It hits him like a full body shock, flooding him with the most terrified adrenaline, breaking his sentence before it could really begin. The Drifter’s gaze drops as fast as his smile and he stares down at the empty space in between his chopsticks like he's looking through the eyes of someone else. He... fed another person. No, worse. He fed a god damn Guardian his food. Much worse. Even as he sits there now with a half empty bowl in his lap, his stomach is still gnawing like it’s trying to crawl out of him. He feels the emptiness like a band around his rib cage. One less bite to stave off the pains. One act of charity that could put him six feet under someday. A precedent and a scary one at that.

The dread is ice cold as it fills his veins. When the hell did he change? Was he even capable of change at this point? If so, why didn’t he see it happen? Why was he doing this? What did he miss? He comes in and out of the present as he stares at his hands, his fingers, the tiny lines that cover them. The reality of the system crashes around him and he half expected to look outside and see the Pyramids on his doorstep. Shit like this would sign his death certificate. He might as well pick out the plot of land he wanted his bones to be buried in at this point if he was going so soft. What else would he be willing to give? His throat trembles.

Soxkt starts coughing something fierce, hand to his mouth. Drifter jerks out of his stupor, his dread replaced with an almost laughably light hearted concern in comparison to what he felt before.

“Hey, you okay? Honey, what’s wrong?”

“S-spicy!”

“....What?”

Soxkt sniffles, tears welling into his eyes, and he weakly kicks Drifter in the shin as he rubs at his face with the back of his arm. “It’s s-spicy you j-jerk!” He coughs again before swallowing with considerable effort. “How can you e-eat that?! What's wrong with you?!” He hiccups, startling himself, splashing the floor with peanut broth as his body jerks slightly. He curses loudly, followed immediately by a second hiccup.

Drifter is laughing, laughing the hardest and happiest he has in a long time, near knocked off his crate by the force of it. His stomach aches with each strain of laughter in his belly but it’s easy to ignore for now. He wonders if any eyes can see him in this moment and he hopes the smile he wears makes them furious. He stops laughing eventually but his grin remains wide, especially when Soxkt can’t help but chuckle weakly at his own misfortune, still hiccuping.

Drifter condescendingly pats his knee. “Was it good though?”

Soxkt bobs his head a little as he thinks. “...Sure. Yes. But you’re...a monster if you can handle that kind of heat.”

“Heh. Yeah. I know I am.” Drifter smiles into his bowl and lifts a second wonton with his chopsticks. Soxkt’s eyes narrow as Drifter raises it tauntingly.

“So I’m guessin’ you don’t want another one then?”


	3. Tango Canyengue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love has moved me and makes me speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tfw your mute boyfriend is talking more and you use that to distract you from the coming apocalypse

“You know, I like this.”

Soxkt felt his mind screech to a halt, scrapping along the pavement of his skull as it did. Immediately his concentration, so steady over the past hour, teetered off the edge of his brain and into a blank abyss. He blinked at the math laid out before him, scratched numbers and symbols on heavy sheets of paper, old enough to curl at the edges and have the light of the Annex show through the more translucent spots.

When he glances up, Drifter is looking at him with a half smile that feels like home. The lights of Ventriloquist color his face in a pale translucent purple as holograms flicker on the wall in front of them, copying charts and graphs Soxkt only half comprehends. 

His face twists in question and Drifter’s smile widens. “What’s that look for, hero?”

Soxkt’s hands are too busy keeping the edges of the paper from curling in on themselves so he clears his throat. “I, um...W-what do you like?” He nearly whispers like it’s a secret. 

“This!” Drifter motions vaguely to the small space between them and at the scatterings of tools and open books in front of them. “Working with you. Like a team! It’s kinda nice. Didn’t get to do this with you before since you came into Prime so late. Almost has me wishin’ circumstances weren’t so dire so I could enjoy this a little more. Moondust really got me wrapped up in a whole heap of trouble. She better pay well.”

Soxkt smiles, tapping his pen with a click on the workbench to the beating of his heart as he listened. This was nice. He had agreed to help Drifter review the schematics of the banks being dropped on Io to triple check for any inconsistencies in the math. 

Everyone’s new favorite Darkness vendor was too busy doling out charm and bounties and engrams to an army’s worth of eager, devouring Guardians. It didn’t stop Drifter from constantly wandering his way back over, leaning in close to peer at his handwriting, and silently pencil in things alongside him. They didn’t speak, didn’t need to. Just bare brushes against each other and soft grunts to indicate frustration at the impossible calculations they tried to climb. 

Soxkt always kept one eye to the entryway, as he did now still. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. Neither of them were. And yet, old habits…

“You do seem...happy.” Soxkt responded once determining the level of safety, bowing his head again to try and resume the rhythm he had been in. A new graph flickered onto the wall. 

“Ha! Happy? Sure. Why not? Only got the triangles of eternal suffering and doomsday on our doorstep, peeping on us and doing hell knows what.” Drifter rested his elbows on the table. “It’s all in the little things when shit gets wacky. Gotta appreciate what you have while you got it. Every scrap of food. Every wink of sleep. Every bullet in your chamber.”

“You appreciate me?” Soxkt asks the long equation scribbling beneath his hand. He catches the Drifter’s faux incredulous facial expression in the corner of his eye.

“Oh, real funny now ain’tcha? You tell me then. Do I? That new bow treating you well? As good as that one you’re always draggin’ around from the Queen’s throne room?” Drifter cranes his neck to look at the black bow that rested on the floor, propped against the wall, nearly as tall as him, before looking back at where Soxkt was flushed with a silent pride. Drifter nudges his way closer. “I wanna see you stick somethin’ with that behemoth of a bow, got it? I don’t care who or what you pierce. Just make sure Ol’ Drifter gets a nice view of the action. Keeps my engine firing on all cylinders seeing you bury bodies.”

“You’re very strange, sweetheart.” Soxkt hoped half muttering the words under his breath would lessen the impact of the new pet name he had been trying, pretending to be too engrossed in his math to notice what he said. Drifter pocketed the sentence in his head and took it in stride for later. 

“Like you’re any better. I’ll bet my Ghost you would take your whole leg off to watch me draw on something mean and nasty.” Soxkt audibly swallowed. Drifter smirked and took the victory as a chance to press his shoulder against Soxkt’s. It was cold in the Annex. And Drifter liked the fires they made in it.

“Ever since you become my Reckoning, I’ve been aching to drop you on somethin’ like this, somethin’ BIG. See you stretch those legs. I mean, you were always good. You’re just...refined now. Sharp and sturdy. Came to me a lost lamb and now you’re out there bustin’ heads like a ram.”

“Stag.” Ventriloquist quipped in a deadpan voice, it’s mechanical eye rolling to look at the stag skull Warlock helmet resting on the table like a gritty paperweight. Soxkt snorted.

Drifter glared. “Hey, hey! Let me sweet talk in peace, munchkin. Tryna see if I can make him stop looking at those numbers so much.”

“Didn’t you put him over here for the express purpose of looking at your numbers?”

“I’m a fickle man.” Drifter bumped Soxkt’s shoulder and the Guardian’s handwriting went wide. He paused his pencil scratching.

“Why do you...insist on tormenting me?” He asked in a strained voice.

“You like it.” Drifter finger-walked his hand across the paper. “And you like me.” He said, voice dropping low, half a song as he drawled the words out slow. 

Soxkt gave up and ran a hand over his red face, his mouth trembling as he fought back against his own smile. “I do. I do. So much. It’s not fair.” He turned to face Drifter with his defeated smile and startled at how close he was. 

“Well, well. Look at you, hot stuff. Honest as a nun. Shame you ain’t as pure.”

“I could play...hard to get.”

“Bullshit you could.” Drifter’s playful smile dropped to a scowl as a nasty thought creeped across his mind. He took Soxkt’s hand fast, like it was tethering him to the floor before he floated away and squeezed tight. He tried to keep his voice light even as his jaw tensed over nothing. “Trust me, Starlight. If you can be the one easy and honest thing in Ol’ Drifter’s life right now, I would be all kinds of appreciative. This Darkness business...it’s business alright but I don’t like the company it brings.”

Soxkt stared at Drifter’s hand clutching to his. It was stained with Darkness like soot and ash, rubbed into the skin until it was almost blue. It didn’t hurt when it touched him like he suspected it might. He could smell the ozone so strong in his duster it burned his sinuses. He threaded their fingers together, squeezing the rough hand in his own. 

“You have me. In all ways.” It was embarrassing to say and the urge to bite his tongue off to prevent it from escaping was strong. But he promised this kind of thing. Promised to bank on that trust they got. And if anything Drifter’s brief moment of wide eyed surprise was worth the mortifying vulnerableness he just showed.

The rogue leaned in fast and pushed their mouths together and Soxkt swore he could taste the ozone in his mouth, on his tongue, like pavement after a storm. It didn’t dissuade him. His chest shuddered with thunder and he kissed back, wondering if his Light was a sweet chaser to all that Dark and that was why his lover drank from him with such vigor. 

The fire burned so hot and fast between them. Pencils clattered to the floor and the parchment curled back into a scroll as hands abandoned their posts and scrambled to touch. Soxkt hissed as his hips were rammed back against the workbench, the Drifter pressing so close, like he was trying to merge their bodies together, a desperate escape from the form he was trapped in. The Drifter’s hands grabbed at his face, the Dark soot bleeding into his blue cheeks. Soxkt’s hands pushed under the Drifter’s collar and felt the feverish skin of his scarred shoulders under his fingers. Soxkt’s jaw ached at how wide it was wrenched open by the Drifter’s commanding mouth but like everything else he did to him, it hurt so good, so right-

“By the Ancients, you two are disgusting.”

Lightning always followed thunder and Soxkt floundered like a fish out of water, jamming the heel of his palm against the Drifter’s chin in a panicked effort to pull them apart. Drifter unlatched their mouths but didn’t seem in much of a hurry to create space between them, even with the strain of Soxkt pushing against his jaw and squirming.

“Enjoyin’ the show, chosen one? Didn't take you for a peeping tom.” He leered at where Draknus leaned against the wall with crossed arms and a bored expression.

“Can you literally not do this anywhere else? At any other time? Like when I don't need bounties?”

Drifter’s neck arched back as Soxkt’s heel pressed in harder but didn’t budge. “Do you actually need somethin’ or are you just here to make sure I can’t have a moment’s peace?”

Draknus rolled his eyes. “There’s at least six ships that pulled in behind me, you know.” He jerked his head back to where, sure enough, a steady clamber of voices was filling the Annex. Drifter grunted in acknowledgment and pulled himself away, adjusting his duster and strolling past where Draknus stood to put himself back into his corner of the railings, prepared to greet the next swarm, leaving Soxkt frozen to the table’s edge out of eye sight.

Soxkt cast a guilty look at his best friend. Draknus’s scowl moved to a full blown grin in one fell swoop, all annoyance gone in a burst.

“You sure looked happy.”

“Fuck off, idiot.” Soxkt muttered, turning himself back to his work. He shot a judgmental look at his Ghost who cheerily spun its shell. “Couldn’t warn me?”

“I absolutely could. But you two are full grown adult men who know the risks and decided to do...that anyways. Besides, I think Draknus has a bingo card of how many different ways he can walk in on you two.”

Soxkt thunked his forehead against his palm. Draknus pushed himself from the wall and circled around next to Soxkt.

"Here, let me help. It'll make that bastard less sore I ruined your fun."

Soxkt knew Draknus's help would be nill in the face of such math. But it would at least make him look busy as he continued to stare down at nothing, taking in none of the numbers before him, still breathing in the salt of the storm that lingered in the back of his throat.


	4. Mourner's Kaddish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You will care for somebody, and you'll love him tremendously, and live and die for him. I know you will, it's your way, and you will and I'll watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: I don't know how to describe it but shards of Darkness need to get ripped out of someone's arm in detail. Medical stuff, blood, pain, etc.

There is a shard of Darkness and it sticks out about three inches from Soxkt’s forearm. The tiny fragment of dark material far from anything in this system is cut so clean with such straight lines, it almost looks mechanical. But as Drifter leans in close as he can, he can see the tiny divots and ridges, the roughed edges of impact that splintered this shard from the whole. It’s going to make it harder to take out than it already was. Drifter leans back slightly from where he’s stooped and presses down with his thumb into the blue skin, wincing as Soxkt cries out a broken yell. More tiny shards poke up from the pores of his arm. 

This would take a while.

The Drifter didn’t see it happen. Or rather, he didn’t know he did. He had been watching the bank deposit on Io and knew this round was going to be a wash. A whole lotta new Lights sprinted around in panic of the Taken that thundered towards them. Actual threat washed over them. Some training the Vanguard did, huh? He was surprised none of these newborns shot their own foot off in the panic. By the time he recognized a familiar helmet on a sparrow somewhere around the horizon, he was already recalling the bank and shutting the operation down.

Sure, he knew the banks always reacted funky if the Darkness wasn’t refined properly. He got a real kick out of watching it pop with energy and send a too curious Guardian flying back a few feet. It was just a quirk he couldn’t quite piece together. So he didn’t notice when the bank shook and shot forth a wave of energy for the hundredth time that day. He didn’t notice the rumble, the strange new rumble it belched out. He wasn’t tuned into the feed when the Ghosts of these Guardians barked to back up fast. And, most stupidly, he didn’t even notice the way his favorite Reckoner grabbed at his arm with a stumble and quickly retreated back to orbit.

But Eris did. And thank his lucky stars she did.

She brought Soxkt to him, half carrying him through the Derelict’s deck as she yelled through the empty hull, calling out that wretched name to make him know something was truly wrong indeed. Soxkt had apparently come to her on the Moon first, guilty faced and already feeling the fever of something sinister eating through him. He fought her on coming to his care. He had a laundry list of excuses ready as he removed his gauntlet to show her; he didn’t want to worry anyone, he didn’t want people to stop helping her and Drifter, he didn’t want the Vanguard to know the risks, he didn’t want the Drifter to be mad at him-

She spat that excuse at him rather harshly as she walked Soxkt into his hovel, watching the Drifter sweep surfaces clean with reckless abandon. The Guardian was already too weak in the legs to move well on his own, barely having the energy to raise his head when the rogue grabbed him by the jaw and shone a light into his bleary eyes. Drifter ignored the accusations hanging from Eris’s voice and eventually sent her and Soxkt’s Ghost away together on the deck. Neither of the two had stopped talking since they boarded. He needed quiet for this, he had told them. In reality, he just didn’t want to deal with the looks those freaks were giving him. He had enough on his plate.

So now Soxkt laid out on the folding table that had been the Drifter’s makeshift bed for years, armor discarded on the floor, leaving his torso and arms bare. Drifter could see in the shards of Darkness shrapnel where Ventriloquist had tried to heal him to stop the bleeding, stitching the skin way too tight over the jagged edges of Dark. The red light of his own Ghost scanned over the injury and projected something on the wall behind the Guardian. Drifter examined the holographic images closely before notably relaxing with silenced breath of relief. It wasn’t too late. He’d be okay. Just...not yet.

Drifter swung his head back down to look at his charge. Soxkt’s breathing was shallow and trembled his sweat drenched chest whenever he gasped. His eyes were shut and his red hair was tangled behind his head, knotted from where his hair ties had come loose. His Light was fighting so hard against the cold seeping through him like a bad allergy. It scared the rogue to see. How the hell this kid managed to play Gambit when he handled Dark this bad boggled his mind. Thinking about it too much might start making him rethink things, things too late to change. So instead, he cracked his knuckles and began to work.

It was precise and messy work. Bloody too. He had barely began to push the first shard out when Soxkt’s eyes snapped open and he gasped, squirming violently. Drifter had anticipated that. His grip was iron on the man’s arm and he’d be damned if it left it no matter how hard he pulled. His voice was rough when he spoke.

“Easy, Starlight.” Drifter grit his teeth as Soxkt jerked again. “I mean it, kid. One more move like that and I’m dislocating your shoulder, got it? We don’t got time for funny business.”

He wasn’t lying. He almost wished he had the stomach to just do it now and get it over with. It’d near guarantee he would stop flinching so much. But Soxkt heard the seriousness in his tone and stilled near immediately, though he still couldn’t quite manage to be perfect as Drifter started his work again. He could handle imperfect though. He’d have to.

It was slow. Within minutes, the Drifter’s fingers were slick with sweat and blood. It never stopped pouring, dripping down the tweezers, staining the sleeping bag pushed underneath Soxkt, running off the table’s edge and onto the floor. Each tiny shard was put in a recently emptied jar and they clinked dimly inside of it, like glass. Such tiny pieces could rip apart the strongest gods that walked this Earth. Drifter swore gently as a shard slipped back under the skin’s surface and his thumb pressed harder to push it out again. He could see where he was bruising Soxkt with his touch. A dry thought in the back of his head thought of the irony; something filthy about the number of bruises he had been near begged to gift on lonely nights to his Guardian.

Soxkt had stopped moving so strongly but he hadn’t been silent. He made sure Drifter knew how much he hated every single moment of this as time dragged it on further and further. His hurt fell and rose like waves. Drifter watched as he would fall into the despair of pain and when the catharsis of tears didn’t soothe the ordeal he was stuck in, he turned to anger, blind rage with no direction. Drifter knew to ignore it. Nothing he could do to ease this. But sometime after the third cycle of crying, he started shushing him gently without even thinking. It brought a whole lot of baggage with it but he couldn’t stop himself. Soxkt yelled a little less when he did and that was enough. 

There was a miniscule shard that pierced straight through a vein. Soxkt’s bravery fell through finally as Drifter began to pick it free and he reached over with his free arm, gripping Drifter’s shoulder, forcing him to pause. The Guardian’s hand burned with the abyss, bright and hot like the heath death of the universe. It stayed in his palm though, restrained enough to not burn him directly. Drifter held his breath until the void subsided. He waited for the fear to clear in his head before reaching up, firmly taking the wrist in his hand.

“I know. I know it hurts, hero. You can hit me all you like after but I’m not lettin’ a punk like you stop me from saving your ass.”

“Drifter-”

“No, hush. You want this to be done? You want it to be over?” Soxkt nodded at him just barely. “Then you be good now, ya hear? No grabbin’, no movin’. If I mess up and you get a piece of this lost inside you, you...honey, you are gonna need a lot more than the Traveler to get you up and going again. I’m a resourceful man but there’s only so much I can fix if you mess this up for me.” He knew he sounded cruel but there was no other way. And he knew he could handle it.

Soxkt slowly pulled his hand away. The anger was losing to the tides again and his eyes were beginning to turn red and raw from crying. “I’m s-sorry.” He whispered. It took a lot of effort to not react to that pitiful voice. The Drifter bent his head down so low his neck ached and began to work again with a soft grunt.

After a strangled cry of pain, Soxkt pushed through the agony enough to stammer out another sentence like he was riding the adrenaline. “I-I’m scared. I’m sorry. I’m scared, Drifter. I’m so, so...” The words lost their syntax and fell apart in his mouth.

Drifter squared his jaw tight. “You got nothing to be scared about. I’ll let you know if you do.” His grip kept slipping.

“Don’t go, don't leave me.”

“I ain’t going nowhere until you have all this crap outta your arm. Your Ghost and Moondust will have my head stuffed and mounted on your sparrow if I don't-”

“Don’t. Go. Please.”

The shard came out and Soxkt whimpered like a wounded animal. Fresh blood pumped hot from the tiny pinprick. Drifter rummaged under the stool he sat on until he found a rag and began to blot away at the drenched skin, shushing again, soft. The air was thick with strain. He didn’t like thinking about it but he could feel his own Light inside him, quaking at the effort he was exerting. There was only one piece left. The largest. Drifter flexed and steadied his hand, waiting for Soxkt to find the end of his adrenaline, dissolving into gentle tears and going limp again.

“...You remember the first time you rolled into my Gambit?”

Soxkt opened a single eye to stare at Drifter, his crying not halting but softening so slightly.

“Nothin’ special, really. Business like usual any other day. I didn’t even know a hero of the red war had rolled in until some informants decided to clue me in later. Still...didn’t stop me from noticing you.”  
Soxkt gasped sharply as he felt the pull of the shard from his skin. He tried to twist free but Drifter kept him pinned, kept him close. No time to yank his arm out of its socket. He just had to push forward. He pulled as slow as he could, talking over the snarling ripping from Soxkt’s throat. The piece was thin. If this broke and chipped off inside him…

“You walk out onto the deck with, uh, Sigurd I’m pretty sure. Yeah, that’s right. He was ribbin’ ya something fierce for being a new blood. You were quiet, if you can imagine. I didn’t even look at you head on when you came up, I was just passing along the goodies you kids come for. Already had my head set on the next game.”

Drifter cut himself off with a hissed swear. Ventriloquist healed the skin too tight over a jagged edge. This would hurt. Drifter held his breath and pulled harder. The skin tore and released the corner and Soxkt clawed miserably at the table, nails scratching deep into the plastic. Almost. Almost. He keeps talking even if he can’t hear himself anymore from the blood rushing in his head.

“And then...you take off your helmet as you walk away. I notice, handsome guy. But, y’know, all you damn Awoken look so pretty. I’ve seen a lot of nice faces. Nah, the real kicker...was you talked. Said something to Sigurd when your hands were too busy. I don’t even know what you said. Hell, at the time, I didn’t even know you weren’t exactly a chatterbox. But I heard you then and…” He stopped. Memories stayed his hand as he recalled with such clarity. “Thought death walked right over my grave. Froze me solid. I just knew, sure as nothin’, you were gonna be comin’ back. And you...you were gonna be somethin’ special. Somethin’ powerful.”

Drifter paused and raised his gaze. Soxkt was quiet. Still. Watching him through eyes heavy lidded with pain and exhaustion. More interested in this story than the Darkness literally trapped in his veins. Drifter locked eyes with him and yanked. That changed fast. Soxkt screamed and with a burst of raw adrenaline, wrenched his arm free, curling in tight on himself, stringing together cusses like he was trying to make a new one. Drifter looked at the chunk in between his tweezers before glancing up again. His Ghost’s projection was swept clean. He smiled.

“Well looky here, partner. You’re all tapped out of Dark.” He said half to himself. He dropped the shard of Darkness away and screwed the lid on the jar tight. He could see his blood red fingerprints on the glass of the jar and grimaced. He stretched back to drop it on his workbench to examine later but there were more pressing matters to handle first.

He waited for Soxkt to unfurl, slowly stretching back out as his exhausted muscles gave in to the sweet relief of no longer dancing with pain. Drifter made himself patient. Eventually, Soxkt turned back over, peering at him over his shoulder. Drifter gently rolled him closer, pushing the hair from his face before taking his still bleeding arm gingerly.

“I knew you’d be important not just to that bunch of clowns you call a Vanguard or to some Awoken Queen or Hive god or whatever. I knew you’d be important...to me. And that was enough. Heh. Still makes me shiver just thinkin’ about it.”  
Drifter wiped a hand over Soxkt’s forehead. He cringed a little at the red it left behind but pushed a smile onto his face.

“You really think after a spook like that I’m gonna just leave you? No sir. You’re stuck in my crew. I ain’t lettin’ you go for nothin’.” He hesitated. Fuck it. Why not at this rate? “I’m in this for the long haul. As long as my ticking clock got.”  
Soxkt swallowed. Nodded carefully. Swallowed again. “I...I hated that.” By the Ancients, he’s pushing a laugh out. It’s weak and thin but he’s trying, trying to smile again already. Drifter feels his heart swell so much it might just burst. “I just...I have a question, Drifter.”

Drifter braces himself. There’s a lot he’d want to know. The effects of the Darkness remaining in him. The banks. The material. And now comes the part harder than any surgery- the game of keep away with what he should know and what he shouldn’t.  


Soxkt lifts himself slightly, turning to stare right up at him. “Can...Can I call you Germaine too?”

Drifter stares. Three Eyes sure knew how to make an impact, huh. He supposed her screaming his name would've cut through even the densest fog. “What? Drifter ain’t good enough anymore?”

“If I said yes….can I call you it?”

“Nope.” He cups Soxkt’s hand between his own, kissing his fingers. “Not a chance in hell.”

Soxkt’s head falls back to the table with a heavy thunk. “Fair enough. Can..I have a shower then?”

“Yeah, lemme get that set up for you. Get you your Ghost back to ya as well. Damn paperweight ‘bout bit my head off when you three came in.” Drifter groaned as he stood up from his stool, joints aching. Soxkt tried to move as well but was quickly pushed down again. “Sit. Wait. I’ll get the water hot.” With a disgruntled look at his own hands, he quickly wiped them down the sides of his pants before making his way to the front of his shipping crate. He paused, toeing the line into the snow.

“Eli.”

Soxkt shifted somewhere behind him. “Hm? Who’s Eli?”

“If you’re gonna call me something, if Drifter suddenly ain't good enough no more...might as well call me that.” He would regret that later, when Soxkt was clean and dry and asleep against his chest. But he didn't mind the regret it came with. It meant he still had enough time to worry about things not worth worrying about.


	5. Metronome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A steady countdown to something  
> or  
> Be thankful for a warning; not all receive such a thing

There is a shattered Ghost on his doorstep. 

The first time she gave him one, it had purpose. It was a promise, a frank evaluation of her skill and job. It came with an explanation. It came with a pointed list of reasons on why he should make the ‘right call’. And, at the end, knowing she might fail, it came with a threat. 

Now it came alone. 

Drifter saw it first. He held the door open for Soxkt with his boot which got him a dirty look for the scuff it left but a kiss on the cheek in thanks anyways. The rogue tried to casually scoop up the shattered pieces from the welcome mat they were bundled on top of but in the time it took him to bend down and swipe, Soxkt had dropped the bag of food onto the kitchen bar and was striding back to the front door, palm outstretched.

“Give it to me.” His tone was gentle. Drifter scrutinized his trembling hand but knew the soft voice was a warning of a greater scene to be made if he didn’t comply. He dumped out the pieces, careful to not let the shards pierce the Warlock’s palm. The tiny silver shards, atom sharp, glittered in the dying rays outside and the artificial light inside.

“I need you to tell me you’re walking around strapped and with that Ghost of yours outta sight.” The Drifter said as he shut the door behind him, back pressed to it, bolting the door without looking. 

“You don’t need to ask those kinds of things.” Soxkt was turning in the living space, keeping his face passive even as he tried to rapidly determine what to do with his hand full of shattered Light. 

“I’m thinkin’ I do. If that lunatic is goin’ this far, she’s got the stones to do more. Cocky enough to do something downright stupid. Trust.”

Soxkt pretends to ignore him as he decides on an empty ceramic pot left on the coffee table, recently cleaned. He had moved the aconite to a larger pot that morning to let it’s roots dig deep. The tiny Ghost remnants clinked dully in their new home.

“Are you scared?”

Drifter snorts. “You look up lately?”

“I meant for me.”

Ventriloquist appeared silently, floating off to collect soil from the greenery, disappearing down the hall. Drifter watches him float out of sight from the shadow of the front door before stepping inside. 

“Honey-”

“Don’t you dare.” Soxkt’s voice was too tearful to bite as hard as he wanted. His throat closed like a vice around the lump that appeared in it as strong, warm arms took in his shoulders. The urge to bristle at the comfort was strong but his mind couldn’t wander away enough from the minuscule tragedy now to be potted between his hands to be angry. 

He had cried over that first Ghost Aunor had sent him. He had figured even between his tears that if she saw him, she would’ve dismissed him herself for “weakness” or something equally trite. He didn’t care. It was a tragedy. It was one less connection to the Traveler. One less little piece of her. He wondered if she cared when her Ghosts died. He figured if he was shattered into thousands of pieces himself, he would only live in fear that one day the piece that held the part of him that could love might end up splintered and used in some petty political bet miles and miles away. He wondered how many pieces of her love remained or if he was holding the ill fitted grave of the very last one. 

He sniffed. The rogue laid his heavy head on the crook of Soxkt’s shoulder. Ventriloquist returned, stringing along his Light a clump of dark, soft Earth that nestled into the pot. The Ghost cast a sad, long look at the two men before rightfully knowing his own grieving would not be welcome, not here, not now. It bitterly tucked itself away. They stayed still for a long time, one with infinite patience, one with a finite amount, and one who stopped counting long ago. 

It was only later, when the warm kitchen melted away the dampened mood, that the Drifter dared to bring it up again. His easy tone carried itself on the spicy air.

“Any idea what’s got Aunor in a tizzy now then? Thought she got the no-go on continuing her little check ups on you.” He mused, chewing on the charred skin of a poblano, staring up at the low ceiling.

“Clan activity. That title you gave me...it draws a lot more attention than I thought it would. People recognize me more. Want to be a part of whatever it is the clan has become.”

“You don’t let in shady folk.”

“Anyone who runs Gambit is shady now. Especially now.”

“Alright. Hear me out then. Tonight, why don’t we get you a bag packed up and move half your junk into my beat up dingy?” 

Soxkt’s hands paused but only briefly before dumping the bunch of chopped cilantro into the rolling boil next to him.

“You don’t have room for me to keep a change of clothes in that crawl space.” He chuckles sadly.

“I do. Whole lot more ship than what you’ve seen up there. Too much in fact.” The Drifter picked the blackened flesh from his teeth. “Figured, though, you could take up some of it. Keep it 50-50 on your odds of her or one of her goons showing up on your porch with some crackpot plan on delivering justice.”

“I’m not running.” Soxkt lays the knife flat on the cutting board purposefully, trying to signal an end to this train of thought. Drifter plays chicken with the oncoming freight. 

“Pride don’t care about a bullet. Don’t be stupid, kid.”

“It’s not pride, I just refuse to panic.”

“Don’t panic then. Keep a bug-out bag. Nothing wrong with a little security.”

Soxkt turns from the counter, weak excuses running freely off his tongue. “If I go, what if she takes it as a guilty conscious? What if it spurs the Vanguard on to watch me more? And if she follows me, gets her way into your ship to get to me? What happens to you? And, and, and the plants, all my plants, I can’t just-!”

Soxkt almost backs directly into the stove as Drifter clears the space between them in one large stride. He swallows, back arching to avoid the steaming metal pot. There’s anger in the lines around the rogue’s sour mouth but there’s fear in the creases beneath his tired eyes.

“Take ‘em with. I don’t care. When some wack job psycho shows you what she’s capable of, you believe her. And you respect it. Not ‘cause she deserves it but to save your own skin.” His hands on Soxkt’s shoulders squeeze like they meant to compress the Guardian to pocket size.

Soxkt stares at the worn fabric around the Drifter’s cloth collar. He picks at it, staring hard enough until his vision warps to muddied colors, stubbornly silent. He has become too well understood. There’s no room for argument this time. And Soxkt’s grown too weary to find one.

A splat of red sauce pops behind him with a sizzle. The Hero of the Tower, brave slayer across the system, yelps like a squeaky toy and scrambles to lid it. The Drifter cautiously steps back and watches Soxkt fiddle restlessly with the pot until his shoulders slump in defeat, his iron straight back crumpling.

“The Derelict is too cold. The plants will die if they come with.” Soxkt’s voice wavers like it did months and months ago, when talking was still a brave new excursion. 

“Sure I got an extra generator lyin’ about. And hey! Don’t gotta be forever. Things die down out there and I won’t keep ya from comin’ back to this pad. Maybe once we get a handle on this Darkness, things will be right as rain, yeah?” The Drifter’s lie isn’t malicious nor is it bold faced; it’s couched in false hope meant to placate. Soxkt doesn’t call him on it and heaves a sigh.

“Will you help me?” The request is timid and strained. The Drifter, despite his wishes, feels his chest swell with pride. 

“Sure. Least I can do with you feedin’ me tonight.” He works his jaw before relenting to kindness. “You know I got you, Starlight. Always.” His voice is low and each word carries eighteen others in its midst and even in the pit of helplessness they scrounge themselves in, the kitchen hums with untold fondness. 

Soxkt adjusts the burner’s flame to low, very very low. The lid is refitted on, snug. He turns and lets himself meet the Drifter on his mouth, sweet respite, blessed comfort. Things are easier to say in quiet whispers between muffled lips, safe between them, where the open world can’t dare to listen in. When they pull away, enough has been said to pull matching smiles from them both. Neither grin lasts for much longer but it only makes them more sacred to one another, more precious than the last.

Soxkt can’t tear his eyes from the Ghost seeded pot when they eat. It is the first plant that makes its home in the cold bowels of the Derelict later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lil thing I wrote for the clan. Figured with all the new recruits Soxkt has 'met' through Gambit and gotten into the clan, a certain Hidden might take onus with that, especially as such a high profile Gambiter as of late...


	6. Crescendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the season is coming and it's time to make sure everything is in place for Europa. Birds of a feather.

It was hard enough as is to pull out of a warm bed with an actual mattress, a comforter with enough feathers to stuff a hundred pillows, and a body that called to him like mortal sin to the spirit. It was a luxury the Drifter was getting too comfy with. But then, Soxkt’s breath had to stutter so sweet when he woke from the kiss to his shoulder and now it felt nigh impossible to shake free. The Drifter had a number of good ways to make an argument for Soxkt to stay arched against him just a little longer but the Guardian squirmed out of the grip with almost immediate grace. By the time Drifter stopped staring at the back of his eyelids, at how the darkness splotched with flecks of dancing light in the sunlit room, his lover was gone, bedroom door cracked open just an inch, a promising invitation to return. 

He was grateful. He didn’t need this to be any harder than it needed to be.

The Drifter scrounged his clothes from the floor with relative ease; he didn’t exactly match the fashion of the young hero’s type. A couple kicks of scattered laundry confirmed his suspicion of his missing shirt. He sighed, looping his belt back on. “Hey, Soxkt!”

He was grateful too for the freedom to raise his voice in the house; the lingering fear of Soxkt’s roommates overhearing his presence had become nary a concern since the Pyramid ships arrived, even if either of them were ever home now. Vaan was in the City every waking moment, resting herself upon the citizens like a mother to her kits, giving comfort and aid. V1per, well, that EXO brat was certainly sleeping under a bank as they spoke, hidden in the shades of Io or dozing to the sound of Titan rain. It made him chuckle to picture; that snitch was oh-so faithful to Gambit nowadays. It would be a spit shine to his ego if things weren’t so dire.

“Starlight, you seen my pullover?”

Silence. He focused just enough to hear the clatter of silverware in the kitchen.

“Give me a hand in here real quick. I gotta get bookin’ it. Moondust will have my Ghost if she can’t reach me.”

“Do you really need a shirt?”

Drifter clicked his tongue, bending over to tear through the few bundles of clothes taunting him from the floor. “Real comedian, huh? I’ve only got like three of these damned shirts! C’mere and help me-”

He nearly bites the tip of his tongue clean off there. Soxkt stands in the doorway in the very familiar black t-shirt, worn and washed until the fabric was whisper soft and faded to a dull shade. Orange sprinkles of bleach dotted the collar and flecked the ends of the sleeves from haphazard washes. It’s awkwardly loose on him in the fit around the stomach and the shoulders from where it had contorted itself to the Drifter’s broader shape. Still, it showcases a long glimpse of his blue neck, a peek of collarbone, and a tease of stomach when Soxkt raises his arms above his head in a stretch after placing two steaming mugs on top of his wardrobe, the waistband of his cloth pants low on his hips. The shirt’s barely more than a utilitarian piece of fabric Drifter slips on day after day but it is startlingly seen worn in front of him on a body he knows so very well. 

Soxkt meets the ogling gaze and smiles, head tilted just so, an eyebrow cocked. “Nope. Haven’t seen it. Sorry.” A challenge behind all that soft candor. Drifter wonders if the hero of the tower knows how for all the hell he gives the heroes he surrounds himself with, he might be the most insufferably charming of them all when he wants to be.

The Drifter huffs and turns his attention to the mug, grabbing it from the rim, letting the steam cook his palm to give a little distraction from how hard his heart has started beating. “Tch. Ain’t that right?” He bites the inside of his cheek until he can force a sip of the drink. The tea is black and bitter on his tongue and it keeps the smile from crossing his face. “You better get lookin’ then or get a bright idea on what I’m gonna do without it.”

“Mmm...stay here?” That smile is bottled sunshine and stronger than liquor. 

“Yeah? You wanna go ref 18 hours of Gambit matches and deal with a buncha good-for-nothings whining about their gear?” Drifter can’t help it; he grins as Soxkt nods furiously, his hands balled in determination. “Oh-ho! Really? Maybe you’ve picked up a thing or two hearing me.” He points a finger. “Mean face. Go.”

Soxkt’s face scrunches into something more akin to the expression of someone who has stubbed their toe on a skiff. Drifter snickers, shaking his head. “Ain’t gonna make the cut like that. Put your back into it! You tellin’ me that’s the look you gave Ghaul, hero?”

“You don’t want to see that one. It’s dangerous.” Soxkt pointedly flicks his gaze away as he retrieves his own mug and drinks deep. The bait is tempting to gnash at but Drifter was old enough now to feel the way time scraped by, every minute of it as it slogged along, every wasted second. He squared his shoulders.

“You can’t cage me, darlin’. Hand to my heart, it’s honest sweet of ya to tease it. You can try it again when we ain’t under siege from those pyramid chatterboxes.”

Soxkt’s eyebrows knit over his mug. He places it back on top of the wardrobe before popping a drawer open, rummaging through it. “I’m not trapping you.” He grumbles. “Is staying a little late so hard to do with me?”

Of course not. In fact, it wasn’t hard at all. It was the easiest choice Drifter got to make these past few nights that bled into mornings just like this. Didn’t help the way it stirred up something in him to see that blue figure in the clothes off his back. Didn’t help that half of the kid’s stuff was in his ship now, always tugging on his mind when he skunk around the Derelict. Even locked away in the back of the ship, inside rooms haunted by things he didn’t want to consider no more, he could feel the Guardian in every nook and cranny inside and out. 

He was starting to woolgather when it got quiet and late about those idiot Lightless who mulled around the Last City, unprepared, ripe for the picking, how stupd and unfair it was the time they got to cultivate with one another. He was starting to stare at the plants Soxkt left behind in their pots and wonder if they looked paler in the leaves than normal. Wondering if Soxkt was right- they stood no chance to survive somewhere so cold.

Something smacked into his chest. Drifter caught the white fabric in his fist before it fell.

“Wear mine then.”

Drifter held the shirt up, squinting with one eye shut as though appraising it. “Gonna be a snug fit.” He was already setting the mug aside and pulling the collar over his neck as he said it. He breathed in deep. The smell was familiar and the realization nearly bowled him over.

Soxkt was pressed flat against his chest once the Drifter pulled his arms through the sleeves, beaming, smoothing over where the fabric stretched, lingering with his fingertips over where the warm skin pressed back. “You look...very handsome.” He breathed. Drifter could feel both their hearts hammering and it was oddly embarrassing to feel, if he could still even feel such a useless emotion.

Drifter caught a wrist in one hand as it danced circles around his bicep. “Easy, tiger. Stealin’ what’s mine, fantasizin’ about locking me up, and now you’re getting handsy? You’re really gonna lead a man like me on right before he has to scoot…?” He pressed his mouth to where Soxkt’s flush trailed down his neck, holding tight when he tried to flinch away. The Guardian shivered and for a moment was too caught in the swirl of his rushing endorphins to be upset when Drifter let him go and scooped his duster under one arm, stalking out of the bedroom, slamming the tea down his gullet, bull rushing through the heat. 

Soxkt caught him at the door and pulled him into his arms, gathering him into his embrace like cotton, and Drifter swore he could feel his Light flare dangerously close under his skin. He had to close his eyes to try and limit his overloaded senses. The Warlock’s smell, the smell of the tea still wafting from a pot in the kitchen, the ever lingering smell of fresh earth and green so clean and pure, all of it was doing something to him, something that made his old bones ache. It was like his Guardian couldn’t let him go until the rogue radiated his Light, like a cat nuzzling his territory, a warning to some, a love note worn on the flesh. 

Drifter reached behind his back and found the door handle. Soxkt ended the kiss when he heard the lock click open, hardly pulling away an inch.

“Fine, leave, see if I care.” He breathed and he dazzled at the way Drifter laughed at him.

“Oh, you brat! What’s eating ya this morning? Sure as hell ain’t me just yet.”

The front door opened to a pale morning and the blast of brisk air parted them easily enough, enough to let Drifter move his way to slipping on his boots waiting for him next to the dusty mat. 

Soxkt smiled wide in the doorway, leaned against the door with his hands holding the brass knob. “You said my name last night. While you were sleeping. Dreaming, I guess.” He laughed shyly, embracing how such a small thing made him glow instead of hiding it behind a mask. “It’s...it’s nice to know I’m...on your mind. You haven’t forgotten us. Even with all this going on. Even considering…” he trailed off. 

Drifter took his chin and pulled them mouth to mouth for just a seering second before letting go. 

“Come up tonight. See me.” Drifter hardly finished the rugged words before Soxkt was nodding. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Okay. I’ll make time. I...you should leave. Faster. Before I stop you. Go.”

Drifter got an eyeful of that grin again before the door slammed and the Guardian was out of his eyesight, taking with him every other sense. Drifter back up on the porch and stared at the wood for a good, long minute. 

“Dreaming, huh…?”

He wanted it to be a nice sentiment. He wanted it to be easy. He wanted to be like those Lightless folk in the city, too small to do anything but spend every day learning to get by. He wanted that powerless freedom. He wanted….a lot, actually. He scuffed at the ground and spat. Not good to want more than you have. His feed buzzed.

“What?” He snapped after slapping his earpiece on, scrounging it from his pocket in a frenzy. 

“Uh, Drifter? I got your….payment from Spider. He said you were too busy to come pick it up while I was there so…”

Drifter’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline but settled as he affixed a smirk on his face. “Thank ya kindly, sister. Leave it on Drifter’s workbench, yeah? I know you can waltz back into my little man cave whenever you like. I’ll wire you a pretty penny later.”

The line went dead as well as the smirk he wore. Drifter quickened his pace down the walk before initiating his transmat in the street, eager to put the little house far behind him. 

What did his dreams look like these past hundred years? And how many were really dreams at that rate? And maybe most importantly…how many of them were coming to pass?

He had less time than he thought. He had to go for it. Tonight. 

….

Soxkt came down slowly from his high, left breathing hard and deep into the fabric of the sleeping bag that now smelled as much of him as it does the Drifter who owns it. His head pounded with the rhythm of his heart which sped back up again at every small touch that brushed his overstimulated senses, nerves alight up and down his spine. His knees had given out a while ago and were only now beginning to be of use to him again. He gave a shuddering gasp as warm water ran down his thighs, slowly cleaning away the evidence of this night’s tryst. A rough kiss planted itself onto his arched lower back. 

“Best you start getting up now before I crawl right back over you.” The Drifter purred into his skin, before pinching the Guardian’s hip and pulling away, leaving him cold once again.

The offer was tempting, moreso than Soxkt wanted to admit, but it was not as powerful as the hole the image of those Pyramid ships in the atmosphere was burning through his brain. With every second, his rationale is drip fed back into his brain. Soxkt moved slow, stretching and contorting like a cat, and he slowly twisted himself back into the shape of a hero again as he sat up. These kinds of moments between the two men grew rarer every day, even moreso than the kind of morning they had. The time between them was spent on much less selfish activities. Both men found purpose in their work made new, old threats becoming fresh and redefining their goals against the backdrop of the galaxy. It would be a welcome change of pace if not for the foreboding end such things promised. The apocalypse made workers of everyone. As Drifter loved to tease him with “Idle hands don’t get fed.”

Clothes were tossed haphazardly onto the folding table bed from the floor. Soxkt took the cue and began to dress himself, movements slow at the very least to linger in the lingering heat of the moment a little longer. He stared at the Drifter’s bare back, at the hardened muscle and scarring rivets in his skin. Soxkt felt a weird jolt of pride in his gut. There was so much beauty about the rogue, so little of which anyone else had ever seen like he did. Beautiful in all the conventional ways and all the tragic ways too, inside and out. It was for his eyes only and it made his heart roar like a lion.

Soxkt’s gaze dragged lower. Yes. In all ways, he was beautiful. 

“Hey, before you head out, we gotta talk.” Drifter spoke up casually, reminding Soxkt of his need to dress. The Guardian quickly squirmed his way into his pants, unmoving from the bed’s edge and keeping his gaze locked.   
“Sure. What do you need?”

“Eh, I don’t need anythin’ except for you to listen. Gotta promise me you’ll pay real good attention though. Tryin’ to be serious here.”

Soxkt rolled his eyes with a smile. “I have to promise that kind of thing now?”

“Only when you’re distracted.”

“I’m... not distracted.”

“You sure? Cause I get the feeling you’re ogling old man ass right now instead of focusing.”

“...Put your pants on faster then.” Drifter burst into a rough laugh and though Soxkt’s face burned with shyness, his smile only grew to hear it. Drifter tossed a wink over his shoulder before hiking the waist of his pants up.

“I just figured it’s about time we go over somethin’. Haven’t mentioned it much but I’ve been doing some investigating on the side, pullin’ some strings. Grave robbin’ has proved useful lately. Not literal before you ask. Just digging up old bones of the past. Ain’t typically my style but I think it went about as smoothly as it could have considering.”

Soxk’s head bounced along as Drifter spoke. “Okay...what did you find?”

“It’s about you, kid.” Drifter paused, pretending to struggle with his belt. The Guardian felt his danger senses go off before he even fully understood the statement. He opened his mouth to push the question but Drifter spoke first. “How you died. The first time, I mean. Very first.”

The oxygen left the room in a single rush of air. Soxkt felt the smile he wore take a moment to run down his face and a creeping feeling of dread wrapped around his shoulders. Drifter continued to fuss with his own clothes, bending over to swipe something off the floor.

“They’re from Fallen.”

Soxkt caught the shirt thrown at him and slowly looked down at his chest, dawning coming over his face. He rubbed a hand over the crossing scars gently, his mind rapidly numbing itself from the verbal blow dealt to him. His thoughts curled in on themselves like a hard shelled bug, desperate to protect itself from the boot pressing on top of it. When he looked up, Drifter was still turned away from him, pulling his own shirt on over his head.

“Took me a good while to figure it out, especially since you got scars layered on top of each other. Some healed by munchkin, some not so much." Drifter continued, turning to face him finally. His face was startling stern. He came close to where Soxkt sat, pushing himself between his legs. Soxkt leaned back and Drifter's hand began tracing a map across his chest, following a pattern only he could see. His touch lingered on a patch of clean, unmarred skin under his thumb, right over Soxkt’s heart. 

"To get into the nitty gritty, you must've had some bit of you messed up right ‘round here that your Ghost managed to clean up real nice. Gonna go out on a limb and say it wasn’t anything too complicated so he was able to patch it up good and fast before you two got got. That’s why you got lines that cut off funny.” Drifter threw a look at the Ghost who materialized after a moment above Soxkt’s shoulder, it’s eye wide.

“Uhhh…I mean, yes?" Ventriloquist muttered in a stunned tone, moving to put itself at eye level with what Drifter was looking at, hovering next to his face. "I...I don’t know. I haven’t even thought about it since that day.”  
“Yeah? Well, keep thinkin’. Be useful for once.”

Ventriloquist was quiet but he began to speak again, slowly, his blue light scanning over the blue skin. “No, you’re right. It was like... a burn scar. The skin was all dappled.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I remember. It was healed already, mostly. And the scarring around it was...surgically precise. It couldn't be what killed him. It just looked like an injury someone else had worked on. It was only cosmetic damage, nothing major." 

Soxkt made forceful eye contact with his Ghost as he talked, his stare voice enough to his thoughts as Ventriloquist slunk back slightly in shame. “I’m sorry but this was before you were even conscious. I didn’t even think about it until now. I didn’t think it-it mattered.” He said sheepishly. Drifter waved at the Ghost, shooing him off with disinterest. It flew dejectedly back towards his charge.

“It don't matter. I’m just tryin’ to prove a point. These are what I got my eye on." Drifter touched the scars he had so many other times in so many different ways but now he touched them so gently, pulling along the skin in an almost clinical fashion. "Some of these small ones could be anything. Common rough and tumble. Either had a rough life or you were just a fighter, like the rest of us. But this…and this…ones like these." 

Drifter paused slightly, letting his finger feel the ridge of raised dead skin across a particularly nasty streak. "I've seen ‘em before. That’s Fallen weaponry at its worst. Got the bloom from the arc staffs across the skin here. See how it stretches and discolors out like that? And the cuts, coming in at an angle from where they struck. Cut across...” Drifter mimed movements with his fingers, drawing paths quick and sharp, ghosting above the skin. “Like that.” 

He stopped and tilted his head to stare at Soxkt’s face. The Awoken's eyes were wide but blank, staring both at the rogue and nothing at the same time. Drifter knew he knew better than to push on but he also knew he wouldn't get this kind of shot again. Or this hunk of bravery. He kept going for the real kicker. 

“Same with this one too. Your big secret.” Drifter pointed to his mouth. Soxkt jolted at that, eyes refocusing and his hand cupped over his lips. A mixture of doubt and hurt raced across his face. Drifter raised his hands defensively but kept going. “I know, I know. How the hell could I know that? But I'm telling you, I'm damn near certain now. Been looking and feeling at it enough to know and I did some diggin’, been doin’ some reading. I’ve picked through a lot of enemies of humanity in my time and I’ve seen a lot of blades. Blades that woulda fit in just right and cut just like that. And let's think honestly here; a Hive ain't gonna come for your tongue. That's some human shit...and some Fallen shit." Drifter’s gaze darkened. “We share a style of painful killin’. Birds of a feather.”

Drifter walked to his workbench and after a moment’s pause of consideration, tore back a layer of canvas and rummaged through a concealed box. After a bit of digging, he pulled out a bundle of leather wrapped good and tight. He unfolded it as Soxkt watched, careful and methodically, until a knife was laid flat in his hand. Big, weighty, coated in rust and dirt. The blade was cerated and atom sharp, possibly even more so in it’s chipped state. It curved almost like a scythe but not quite as far. As Drifter turned the handle in his grasp, Soxkt caught the glimpse of carved Eliksni against the charring flecks of wood and a marred House sigil. He couldn’t help himself but to lean in and gawk.

Drifter watched him stare. He watched his golden eyes carefully. Watched and waited for that moment where Soxkt wouldn’t be in his own body anymore, when the past of something unforeseen would take him by the throat and drag him kicking and screaming away from the present. But no such moment occurred. He was dazed but still here. Drifter relaxed and rewrapped the knife with a sigh.

"‘Course, all the ones I’ve seen were scavenged pieces, like this. Anyone coulda grabbed a knife off a Fallen body and used it themselves. But...not yours, hotshot. No sir. That cut on your tongue went right through all that muscle and carved clean. Had to be a pretty piece to do that, not some dead man’s garbage. Why your scar's so thin now. Why your Ghost's shoddy healing job was able to keep your nerves intact.”

The knife was put away. Drifter pulled out a stool and sat. He and Soxkt stared at one another. Now the game really began. 

Ventriloquist spoke up softly to try and break the tension. Neither looked at it as it spoke.

“Drifter...why did you tell us about this?” He didn’t sound accusatory. If anything, the neurotic little ball sounded strangely relieved. Maybe just exhausted. Drifter had a feeling this floating paperweight was probably assisting his Guardian in hunting down his past self in ways he would never want to admit. It went against their whole philosophy of shucking away their past identities, tying themselves to the big cotton ball in the sky more. 

Drifter flicked his eyes at Soxkt who was silently staring him down. He was waiting for an answer too.

“…I figured it might put you at ease somewhat. With all that’s comin’, it’s one less thing to have on your mind." Drifter rubbed the back of his neck and his words hung with too many unspoken things he couldn’t get into right now. "Lot of folk died to Fallen, 'especially the Awoken droppin' to Earth in their shiny birds, not knowin' what they were getting into. Some came back up again, like Orin and a thousand others. Ain’t nothin’ special, nothin’ you did to get yourself off'd in the first place. Just another sorry sucker who bit the dust ‘cause one of those colonizers didn't like you on their turf. Hell, if you still wanna feel special about it, you look like you put up one hell of a fight if all that other scarring means anything.” 

Drifter leaned on the back legs of his stool, hand stroking his chin. “See if I can set a scene here; you left the Reef, came here to play do-gooder or something. Real noble. From there, I reckon you got ambushed out there somewhere in the dark frontier, gave more hell than some Dreg sons could chew, and their Captain decided to shut you up, make an example of you.” Drifter scrutinized Soxkt, rocking the legs of his stool back to the floor. “It didn’t matter then and it don’t matter now. Point is, it’s over. We put our games in the dirt, it’s time you buried another.”

Soxkt didn’t move. Drifter waited with an infinite amount of patience he didn’t know he had for him to say something. Soxkt tried to hold his breath and outlast the moment but eventually time proved the victor and he broke eye contact to stare at his feet.  
“...What Shin said though. About my past coming back. The Awoken calling in a favor. There has to be more.”

Drifter briefly flashed a sad smile. “Heh. That rat bastard doesn’t know where he is half the time. Even if he did hear something from a little bird, we got no reason to believe that word was true. The man’s still just a man with his fingers in a lot of pies. Easy for info to get mixed up. You met that Queen. She ever say anything to you?”

“...No.”

“You haven’t heard anything from anyone else, have you?”

“...N-no but...sometimes, they stare. In the city.”

“They stare at everyone like you cause they’re a bunch of past worshipping freaks, no matter what they say. Got a death wish for the future so it makes them greedy for what they lost. They can’t let nothing go. Trust.”  
Soxkt knew there was nothing left to press on the subject, even if he had his doubts, even if he was in the right mind to think of something. Drifter wasn’t the kind of man to leave any holes open for suspicion to come through, not when it affected him so adversely. Soxkt curled himself into a ball.

"...You shouldn't have told me." Soxkt told his knees, pulled up close to his chest. 

Drifter snorted, his tentative facial expression dropping to one of contempt. "Uh-huh? Why not?" 

Soxkt could tell immediately Drifter was readying himself for a fight. He swallowed around his tongue that laid so thick in his mouth. He didn't know how to tell him he had to go through these motions of resistance, like he resisted everything that came to him unannounced, no matter how bad he wanted it. He had to tell himself he didn’t want to know this. He at least had to pretend to believe it or else he wouldn't be able to live with the weight of the truth; the truth that knowing would set him free more than not knowing ever could. Instead of admitting any of that, he fell back to his old games.

"You know why. The Vanguard doesn't want us-" The Drifter's fist made a horrible sound when it slammed into the workbench, rattling and scattering the nuts and bolts that laid across it.

“Hell with the Vanguard! Don’t you start with me!” He barked loud, causing Soxkt to wince back. “I know you don’t give a damn just as much as I do! You can lie all you want but I see you. You've been going stir crazy for an excuse to find out something 'bout yourself ever since the Light picked your sorry ass up.”

Drifter’s smile was no joy, only teeth. “Well, sweetheart, it's time you quit hidin’ behind your excuses 'cause I don't play that way, not anymore, not with what’s coming. What, you’d rather go around scratchin’ at your wounds forever, chasing some fairy tale about your tragic death?” 

Drifter paused and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Shut up, don’t answer that. I know that's what you'd rather do. But we are runnin’ out of time. And if you’re gonna up and chase any lead you got to find some kernel of truth ‘bout who you are...we might not get through this whole mess. So no more. Put your mean face on and-“

“As if all of this wasn’t also in your own self interest?”

Drifter’s head shot up. Well, this was new. Soxkt’s glare at him was furious and he jutted his chin out, as though mockingly questioning the shock on Drifter’s face. His voice was steeped in hurt like ice. 

“I’m not stupid. Why do you get to gallivant around with your secrets and your own best interests but I can’t question things important to me? Even you can apparently waste time on this but I’m not even left the dignity of doing it myself?”

Drifter heard the rumbling of tension shaking his eardrums. “Why? Because my damn best interest is keeping this system in one piece! You staying in line is part of that! The hell does your best interest serve except yourself?! Don’t give me that acting like we’re on the same page.”

“At least no one’s life is on the line except my own! If one day you decide it’s not in YOUR best interest to save us and stay here, how do I know all THIS isn’t just you preparing to leave?”

“Do you know how many lives rest on your shoulders, playing hero like you do?! It ain’t just you, if you go down we ALL go down!”

“When have you ever cared who dies?!”

“I’VE ALWAYS CARED!”

The snow outside made the quiet heavier than it needed to be. Drifter tried to collapse his racing heart and unlock his jaw. Soxkt was making the whole crate smell like ozone. It pumped through his pores with the void it carried. He watched the hero carefully, waiting for the atoms to slip and his whole ship to go up into a black hole. They held that moment like a high note until Drifter sat back down again, slow and methodical. 

“From the get go, Starlight, you had me tellin’ you things I woulda gone to the dirt with. Sure, all you little Dredgens and Reckoners got real personal with me for a bit there. And more of you than I’d like to admit got those visions from that blue psychopath. But you...you had me writin’ and sayin’ stuff that might have been better off remaining secret for good. But it’s too late now. I gotta suck it up and move ahead knowing you got yourself in all of my business. If it comes to get me someday, I’m sure I’ll bite it yelling to myself ‘I told you so’. Until then though...no time for regretting what’s done. No time to regret you, to regret...us. Cause there’s an us now, still, whether you believe it or not.”

Soxkt’s anger was breaking down and Drifter moved closer to watch the pieces as they fell. 

“Be done regretting. Be happy you got nothing to regret. Hate me if you gotta but don’t drag yourself down with me. And hey...I like me a nobody. I prefer it. Cause I like you now. Don’t want nothing takin’ that away from me.”

Soxkt leaned forward and let his forehead bump Drifter’s gently. They stayed nose to nose for a moment until only the smell of gun oil and vegetation filled the crate, the stench of the stars receding away. Drifter let his rough palms press into Soxkt’s cheeks as though meaning to lovingly but firmly keep the Guardian from spilling over. 

“Go hunt down those idiots you call a clan and friends. Go get pissed at me and pissed at yourself and whatever you need to do. Tomorrow, I’ll be here. I won’t be sore. But I’ll be waiting though, yeah?”

Soxkt nodded silently, pressing into the hands holding him together, molding his expression with the fingers of another. 

“I...just thought there had to be a reason all this time...for hating myself…” Soxkt stopped himself as his voice cracked. Drifter didn’t get to have the gift of his undoing.

“You got a lot of time to make up for it, sweet thing.”

“I….I still love you.”

Drifter didn’t know why the relief felt so strong but it was enough to scare him. 

“Heh, yeah, I know, I know. Ain’t worried. Take more than that at this rate to scare you off me.” He lied, kissing his forehead and letting go, pieces falling where they may.  
….

Drifter watched the footsteps in the snow slowly fill themselves back to full again until there was no proof a Guardian ever walked through them. The ragged man took a holopad in his hand and flicked through the requests for his newest intelligence report but he could barely register the words scrolling by, mind lightyears away. Sighing with frustration, he pushed himself to a corner of his workspace, straining to reach over a pile of dim motes slowly disintegrating to nothing as his arm bumped over them. 

When he pulled back, he held a broken Vestian Dynasty in his hand and a crumpled black feather that had been tied to the grip with a delicate string of gossamer that still held strong. The feather had dried out, losing its sheen, the vane a dusty grey from age instead of the peerless black it once boasted. Drifter pressed his thumb to it’s spine; the rachis held stiff under the pressure. He breathed out hard through his nose and smacked his comm connection with an open palm, rubbing his tired eyes until he heard the familiar click of the opening call.

“Hey, Moondust! Got a question for ya… about a corvid. I know you know a thing or two about ‘Crows’ but...just curious, what do you know about ravens?”


End file.
